Don't Follow Me (March Hare)

Filling me up is this lust to lay down my crossAs the sun melts down the nailsThis grim, stupid, street is grinningSkip my foolish heart a beatStill no Vincent scissors shall cut my earsOr how else in this miserable life would I hearAnd rush to the whip, the lash and the drumsDon't you follow me Don't you follow meDon't you follow me March HareAs fond of white walls as I amI cram my head with your sanityJust enough to stay outside the hide and seek gameThe first time there is something to make you sleepAnd it makes you illFor the next time may be mandrake if I wake at allDon't you follow me Don't you follow meDon't you follow me March HareThe girl in the white dress shows promiseShe promised too muchHope she enjoys it when it happens, if it happens at all